Transition week

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In September 2009 I remember sitting on the floor of my empty apartment, having just called the cable company to cancel my service. I was nearing the eve of my departure to England.  By that time, I was feeling a little less than zen about the whole idea.  The feeling is hard to articulate: a happiness, an excitement, a sadness, a dread.
I want to have a stout heart and a calm mind, but both will fail at least for a few minutes in the execution of wild-ass plans. Yesterday I felt that 'little less than zen feeling" and I described myself as "An 'Ellie' 8 [out of 10]...which is a normal person's 12."  But now that I am here and the cats didn't pee, throw up, poo, or die on the ride down, I feel a lot better. We all have a lot to get used to.

In the last week I had two last days at work, a great going away party, and several meals and several more drinks with people before I left.  Yesterday I packed up the last of my essentials and the cats and then we all cried (they, much longer than I, as when you're taking cats to anywhere but the vet, it's hard to explain it to them).  But, like back then, when I stood up in my echoing apartment, I took a last look, a deep breath, stopped feeling sorry for myself and got on with it,  yesterday I put the car in gear, took the brake off, a deep breath, drove away and got on with it.


Comments

Mother said…
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04 June, 2018
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